


here i am and i'll take my time

by pekorama



Series: Let Him Under Your Skin (Reddie Ficlets) [2]
Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst, First Kiss, M/M, MAJOR spoilers for part two, Reddie, kisses in the dark, teen reddie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-17
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2019-01-18 12:22:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12387996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pekorama/pseuds/pekorama
Summary: Eddie calms Richie down after a nightmare.





	here i am and i'll take my time

_You’re too late, Richie_ , a rotting voice echoed in his mind, _he’s with me now_.

There was a sour smell that hung thick in the air. The whole atmosphere felt dense, claustrophobic even. It felt like how the world felt minutes before a storm struck. When grey clouds loomed heavy, electric. Tense. The scent burned in his nostrils and coated his tongue, causing him to nearly choke on his own breath. Breathing. His breathing was already labored, ragged, but why?

_Where the fuck am I?_

Richie’s entire body ached. He was aware of a throbbing in the soles of his feet like he’d been walking for hours on end, and of an even more subtle ache in his lower back. He felt tired and weak, and his head hurt most of all. Sharp bouts of pain pulsed through his skull, and his stomach churned in protest with every jolt. There was something else, too, a thick warmth covering his hands. It spread quickly and soaked his clothes.

He was holding something. _Dead weight_ , his mind insisted, and when Richie looked down at this weight (dead weight) in his arms, his heart dropped like a stone.  
Now the shrieking, the whimpering sobs that surrounded him made sense. He hadn’t noticed them until now. It was his friends. Beverly, mostly. She was crying, hard, and sputtering out the same name that had just died on Richie’s lips (died in Richie’s arms): Eddie. An older Eddie, sure, but still unmistakably him. Eddie lay limp in Richie’s arms. The wet warmth was his blood, dark and red, and it flowed in a steady stream from the socket where his arm was supposed to be. 

“F-fuck, Eddie!” He was shaking his friend’s body, already knowing it was pointless but not having the heart to stop. “E-Eds, fuck, _shit_ , you’re bleeding pretty bad, man. What happened to you? Oh god, Eds.” He shook even harder this time, until he felt Bill’s hand close over his shoulder. Firmly, but not unkindly. 

“He’s guh-gone, R-Ruh-Richie. Let him go.” Bill was crying too. 

Richie shook his head. “Fucking _do something_! Eds is ―”

The corpse’s eyelids suddenly flung open, exposing glazed, lifeless eyes. A hollow, dusty voice spoke from Eddie’s still-warm lips. The voice sounded like it belonged in a zombie creature feature at the Aladdin. “ _ **Don’t call me that**_.” Richie sputtered a string of curse words, dropping Eddie’s head into his lap like a hot plate.

Richie woke up with a strangled cry, and was plunged suddenly into the absolute darkness of his own basement. The warm wetness soaking his skin was no longer blood, but sweat and tears. His wavy hair clung to his forehead, sticky and hot. The entire back of his t-shirt was damp. Tears stung his eyes and formed a sore lump in his throat, forcing him to swallow hard. His mind reeled with disorientation. _Eddie. Where’s Eddie? Why is it so fucking dark and, oh god, I need to save him, he’s bleeding. I can’t lose him._

“Eds?” 

“I _said_ don’t call me that.” Eddie’s reply came in a harsh whisper, cutting through the darkness like a knife. Richie hadn’t been asleep for long, so this whole time Eddie had been under the impression that he was having a very one-sided conversation with a very awake Richie. Richie would mumble ‘Eds’ urgently, and Eddie would shush him. It was late, and he was grumpy, and he knew that if he caved and asked ‘what?’, Richie would say some dumb shit like ‘can’t you fall asleep a little faster? I want to spend some quality time with your mom.’ to which Eddie would reply ‘maybe I’d be asleep if you would shut the fuck up.’ He was not falling for it. No sirree. Not this night, and not at this hour. Turns out, still unbeknownst to Eds, this was not one of those times.

Richie could hear his voice but didn’t process his words.

 _Eddie’s dying, he’s dying, he’s bleeding out in my arms and I need to find him. Why can’t I see anything?_ He felt around in the darkness, fingers tracing over the rough carpet and onto his own sleeping bag. “Where the fuck are my glasses?” What little composure he had was failing fast. 

“Richie, are you having a fucking stroke? Your prescription doesn’t give you night vision.”

“I-I just need my fucking glasses so I know ―” Richie whimpered, his voice breaking as he began to search more desperately, “so I know that you’re okay. There’s blood on me. Your arm ―”

“Woah, what? Richie what the fuck are you talki ― ” 

“I don’t want to lose you, Eddie, I-I... I can’t... _I can’t_.” 

The room fell silent, save for Richie’s heavy breathing, and then a faint rustling as Eddie climbed out of his sleeping bag. His voice sounded closer the next time he spoke. “Richie, what happened? Are you okay?” The worry was painfully evident in his voice, and somehow amongst all the chaos in his brain Richie could still feel his heart skip a beat at the sound.

It was starting to make a little more sense now, but his words still tumbled out of his mouth in a jumble. “F-fuck, Eddie, I saw you and you were older and I think I was too, but you were hurt, and I couldn’t do anything. I think I-I’m covered in your blood.” 

He felt Eddie rest a hand on his shoulder and then quickly retract it, as though he’d been burned. “Jesus, Richie, you’re _drenched_ with sweat.” Realization began to dawn over the smaller boy as he knelt closer to Richie, feeling the heat radiating off of him and the sharp, short breaths he was taking in. It was an anxiety attack prompted by a really shitty, scary dream. “I’m okay! You’re okay,” he began, speaking as soothingly as he could in his own state of shock, “you’re in your own basement. We’re having a sleepover. You just had a very bad dream.” He wished he could see Richie’s face right now. 

"No, no,” Richie insisted, shaking his head, “It was real. It was _so_ real. I’m covered in your blood ―”

"It’s sweat, you’re overheating.” Without missing a beat, he began to stand. “I should get you some water and a cold washcloth ―”

“Please don’t go.” 

Eddie froze, struggling to hold back tears himself now. He hadn’t heard Richie sound this broken in a long time, and he had hoped he would never have to again. Hearing him like that broke his heart. He knew Richie wouldn’t want to be seen like this. He hated his own vulnerability. He hated when he couldn’t just crack an inappropriate joke, and laugh his pain away.

“Okay,” Eddie whispered, “I’m here. I’m staying right here.”

Another silence stretched between them. Eddie silently debated whether or not to reach out. Touch him, hug him, do something. God knows he wanted to, but would it be the right thing to do?

The quiet was broken by a strangled sob. Richie had clapped a trembling hand over his mouth to muffle the sound of his tears. He wheezed, choked, bit back another cry, and felt his entire body shudder with it. _Stop it, Richie. Stop fucking crying, you idiot._ Richie spoke coherently for the first time, and Eddie didn’t like what he heard. “ _F-fuck_ ,” Richie chuckled weakly, “I’m s-stuttering like Bill.” Eddie frowned, and couldn’t help but think ‘ _he’s doing that thing again where he punishes himself for having real emotions_ ’.

“Shh, c’mere.” Eddie whispered, hands searching in the darkness until they found the other. “You’re shaking.” He shuffled closer, climbing onto Richie’s sleeping bag, and held him close and tight, letting one hand wander to his hair and stroke his curls. “You’re okay. You’re safe.” 

Tears welled in Richie’s eyes as he hugged back, suddenly and intensely. Needing to feel as close as possible. Eddie’s skin was cold to the touch. Richie craved its chill.  
“I don’t care if I’m safe,” Richie laughed through the tears, “I just need you to be, Eddie." 

“I am.” 

Eddie rested his forehead on Richie’s. He smiled in spite of himself. 

“Stay with me,” Richie begged, his voice breathy. Their noses brushed against one another’s. Eddie’s hand lingered on the side of Richie’s head, cupping his jaw, thumb tracing along his flushed cheek. Their lips drew closer. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Eddie said, and sighed into the kiss. He squeezed his eyes shut and fought the urge to smile so sweetly against Richie’s mouth because this was finally happening, and it was bittersweet but his heart was soaring all the same.

Richie’s eyes fluttered shut and he wished he would never have to open them, afraid that if he did it would all fall apart, and Beverly would be screaming beside him again, pleading for Eddie to wake up. 

Richie wondered if Eddie knew he was lying when he said he’d never go.


End file.
